What then, Mr Genius?
by HK145
Summary: Has he finally pushed it too far? Finally done the one thing she won't forgive?
1. Chapter 1

It's been a particularly challenging few days. Even by Lightman Group standards. We were called in to help investigate the murders of two teenage girls, who's bodies were found abandoned in a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Our expertise were required in the interigation of suspects and witnesses alike. The FBI wanting to get to the bottom of the case as quickly as possible. 'No Pressure', Loker had joked after we had given him and Torres a briefing on the case and their particular duties while Cal and I ran point on the interviews. But it became very clear very quickly that there was nothing but pressure when the call came in that a teenage girl had been abducted, from the same area as the two victims.

We spent hours interviewing the main suspect, Cal and I firing question after question. Repeating ourselves over and over, twisting questions and answers trying to make him crack. We tried everything. Being supportive, being angry, playing good cop v bad cop. And when we got nothing, we spent hours going over the tapes, analysing every second of hours of our interview, frame by frame, looking for something. Anything that we could use. Anything that we had missed.

And when it becomes clear that we're getting absolutely no where, I start to panic. Really panic. For the investigation. For the girl who's still missing who looks so much like Emily my heart hurts. Who looks so much like Emily that the poor girl has been bombarded with calls just so we can hear her voice and know she's where she's supposed to be. But most of all I panic for Cal himself, who is getting more and more wound up by the second. And by the end of third day when the prime suspect has been released for lack of evidence, when we've completed more hours of interviews that just seem to be leading us round in circles he breaks. I watch as his frustration snaps something inside of him, and a look of sheer determination settles upon his face. It's a look I know well. The same look he had right before he left for Afghanistan, before he left to storm a tractor truck that may have held a bomb, the same look he had as he welcomed Doyle into our lives. It's a look I know well, and one I really wish I didn't. One the signifies the end of our professional partnership, just for a while. One that signifies a dangerous road that he'd rather I not go down with him. I can live with that, to a certain degree. Can live with how he tries to push me out of whatever plan he comes up with. Whatever stupidly dangerous idea he has to crack a case. He does it to protect me, and I love him for it. I do. Even when it drives me insane with worry. But what I can't live with is the damage it does to our personal relationship. How his decision to keep me out professionally somehow always snap something inside us personally. His actions chipping away at the fragile rock we're balanced upon, until I don't know how we haven't fallen to the ground. He feels it too, the strings that connect us snapping as he leaves me standing somewhere, begging him to stay. Begging him to take me with him if he has to go. But it never works, he always leaves me standing alone. Leaves me with nothing but fear for his life. Fear that he will never return. He does return in the end, with an apology written all over his face, even if he can never find the courage to use the words. But it takes longer every time. Longer to put ourselves back together. Longer to erase the damage that the fear has done. And the longer is takes each time, the more fear I have when he leaves. Because what if this is the time we are damaged beyond repair.

He's out his chair in a flash, doing everything he can to avoid my eyes. I chase after him, as I always do, following him through the corridors towards the exit. His hand is reaching for the door handle by the time I catch him.

"Cal". My voice breaks with emotion, catching the weight of his name on my tongue. It's unusual. Not the way his name normally falls from my lips in moments like this. Normally it's stern, and lines with accusations. But tonight, there's something else. Something we dance around, and it stops him. His hand suspended in mid air, as he turns to face and finally meets my gaze. I search his face, expecting to find it closed off to me. But it's open. And i'm surprise to see guilt and regret already clouding his features. Stunned to find an apology already softening his face. There's a flash of something else. And it confuses me. This is what comes after. When he's made the mess and realised he was wrong. These feelings across his face come after and not before. Never before. But before I have time to question him, he turns, and leaves me alone. Leaves me with a heavy heart, and a weight in my stomach. Leaves me with an uneasy feeling that whatever they are, his next actions just might be our undoing.

* * *

She's standing exactly where I left her the night before. In the entrance of our offices, with one hand on her hip. And if it were't for the different clothes she's wearing, i'd be convinced she hadn't moved since I walked out on her. Again. There's another difference too. Her face. Last night, as I turned away from her, her face was twisted with worry and love. Quite a common occurrence when she's looking at me and she knows i'm about to do something stupid. But today, her face has iced over. And staring at me is not the Gillian I know, but somebody completely different. I search for some sort of relief from her that i've walked in unharmed. But there is nothing. Nothing but the anger, and dissapointment. I see flashes of what look like hate burning from her eyes, but I shoot that down. Bury in deep within, praying that this time i'm wrong. Because she would never hate me. Would she? I decide to walk straight past her, as I normally do after i've done something complete idiotic. Because she'll either follow me and we'll have this out in the privacy of my office. Or she won't, and she'll find me later today when she's had time to talk herself down from a screaming match. That's the way these scenarios go. Always have. So my heart sinks lower than I ever though possible when her voice hits my back, as i'm about to dissapear from her view.

"You are a sick man Cal". Her voice carries a tone that is usually reserved for the lowest of the low that we come across more often that she'd like. I knew she'd be pissed when she found out what i'd done, hense my unspoken apology before I even went through with my plan. But I cracked the case wide open. Caught the bugger in the act, nailed down the location of the missing girl. Figured saving a life would give me some brownie points. But the way she's walking towards me, finger pointed ready to stab me away, I know i've well and truely messed this one up.

She doesn't give me time to respond, before she continues, "Emily. Seriously Cal. Are you kidding me. What kind of man, what kind of father, uses his own daughter as bait to catch a criminal. And not just any criminal, but a murderer". Her voice grows louder with every steps she takes. Her strides more purposeful until she's stood right infront of me and screaming her words into me.

"Well?", the accusation hits me. Right so it's my turn. She wants me to explain.

"To be fair love", I begin hoping using a name I reserve only for her will soften her towards me, "Em was never in any danger. Didn't put her out there for the creep did I. Just used her picture of grab his attention".

And that's the truth. I didn't put her any where she was in risk of being hurt. But she's exactly this guys type. And while it had pained me to do so, i'd used her picture to create an account on the same website where this guy seemed to to picking his targets. He'd taken the bait and within 45 minutes of arranging to meet me, while I was pretending to be Em, he was in handcufs and finally singing like a canary.

"That's what you're going with? That she was never in any immediate danger. That makes it ok does it Cal. Really?" Her voice is filled with disgust, not satisfied with my explanation in the slightest.

"What if your marvelous plan hadn't worked out, huh. What if he hadn't agreed to meet you. What then, Mr Genius? What if all you'd done was taunt him with a picture of Em, and he'd gone out and found her himself. On his own time. Gone out and done to her what he did to those other poor girls. What then Cal. What then?"

She's lowered her voice slightly, but that hasn't stopped a group of employees to pool in the doorways. But she doesn't care. I'm not even sure she can see past anything but me and my failings right now. Some of her anger has given way to fear and there are tears threatening to fall from her eyes at any moment. And while I know that this is serious. Know that i've messed up massively, I can't help the smile that creeps into my face. Because she cares so damn much about Em that it almost near breaks me. They share so much love for one another, that it melts all the ice within me and has me turning into nothing but a puddle. But she misreads my face. Mistakes my smile at her love for my daughter, as me finding the situation funny. And that's when it really falls apart.

"You're pathetic", she spits before she turns in her heal and dives into her office. She returns seconds later armed with her bag and coat, and head straight past me towards the exit.

It takes me a few moments to move my feet and chase after her. A few more to find my voice. But I do, because I know that this is a turning point. A place where words are needed if I want to stop this chain of events.

"Wait Love", I plead. "Don't go".

It stops her, and she turns to face me. She's still angry. That's plain as day to see, even to someone who has no idea what cues to look for on the face. But she's softened too, I think.

"You want me to stay Cal? Then say something that actually makes sense. Say something that will make me stay"

She watches my face as her words wash over me, and I try to find the courage to say something meaningful. Something that will make her see how sorry I am. Make her understand how much I don't want her to walk away. But as I look back at her expectant face, my tongue goes heavy in my mouth, and my throat dries up. And despite everything I want to say to her, everything I want to give her, I can't choke out a single word.

She shrugs, a resigned look crossing over her face, as the word 'coward' slips from her lips. She turns her back to me again, and I think that's it. Think she's said everything she could possibly say. But before I realise what's happening she's turned and is heading straight back towards me. She doesn't stop until she's right in my space, as I often do to her. But this is different. This isn't teasing, or flirting or whatever the hell it is i'm doing with I crush myself against her body. This is so I can really see. So I can watch her and not miss a single thing that her face is showing me. This is so I get the full impact of the words she says next.

"You know, all those people at the Pentagon were right about you". She pushes her hand hard against my chest and has me stumbling back a few paces before I find my balance.

You're dangerous" she continues, with venom dripping from every word in a way i've never heard from her. "I should have discredited you and your bloody science when I had the chance".

There are a few gasps from the staff, as her words echo around the building. She holds my gaze, long enough for me to see the truth of what she's saying mirrored in her eyes. Then she turns swiftly, and marches out of the building. And as I watch the door swing back and forth with the force that she pushed it with in her hurry to leave me behind, I understand what it feels like to be her. As she leaves me standing alone, in the spot I left her in less than 24 hour ago, with her words torturing me with a pain like no other, I understand her fear every time she's watched me walk away. Because as I stare after her, as I watch the glass swing a few more times before finally clicking shut, I realise I have absolutely no idea whether she'll ever walk back through that door again.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! I was busy writing Replacement and kept going over what scenario's would cause Gill to actually give up on Cal and eventually I figured him doing something that could cause danger to Em would probably be the only thing that would cause her to lose all faith in him. And I know it might be slightly out of character, but I do think that some of his behaviour over the series, and how he often put Gill in danger, indicated at some point he would probably end up doing the same to Em, even without realising it. Hope you enjoyed. Comments appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

It's been a very long time since i've posted anything on here.. so go easy on me! I hope you enjoy this chapter.. xx

* * *

I let my stilettos carry me down the halls. I let black leather and red soles echo down the stairwell and through the car park. I let the 6 inches of visual heaven that stretch my calves and make my legs look endless torture me until I have completed the journey I hadn't planned on making.

I'd slipped his favourite shoes onto my feet after arriving at the office in my sensible flats. Practical and comfy for the morning commute. Very unlike the weapons that now encased my feet. I hadn't expected to be walking anywhere far today. I'd expected to spend my day as I always do after he's done something stupid. In my office. Buring myself in paperwork and accounting. Losing myself in the mind numbing day to day of running an office. Closed away until i'd forgotten why I was angry in the first place. I'd expected to spend the day as I always do after he's done something to tip us over the edge. In my office. Alone. Until my brain had reasoned his latest actions were more helpful than idiotic. Until my heart had twisted his latest reckless behaviour into another reason to love him. I'd expected to remain behind my desk lost in my own thoughts until the sun had faded behind the horizon taking with it my resolve to be mad at him. I'd expected to remain behind my desk until the darkness had settled upon the building and I was sure it was just the two of us. Then, and only then, were my expensively clad feet to move. In the quiet of the office he'd hear the noise of my shoes moving me back towards him. The sound signifying I was ready. The gentle click against marble my white flag. My surrender.

He'd notice the shoes first. He always did. His eyes always following my feet when I first enter the room. Others search for someone's eyes. But not Cal. Never Cal. When someone can read every emotion, they delay the inevitable. Once his eyes find mine, the game is over. So he watches my feet first. Always starting at the end. That's why i'd chosen them. This particular pair get a specific reaction. A reaction I need after this sort of fight. His eyes land on them, and he draws in a breathe. Unable to hide the effect I can have on him. He faulters. Every time. Every single time. And in that breathe that catches in this throat every time he see's me being held 6 inches taller, he becomes reachable. Becomes human. Because just for a second, he can't hide his emotions. And that's what I need, after one of our episodes that are becoming more and more frequent. I need to see he's still in there. That he's not gone over the cliff without me. So I picked these shoes not for the comfort they bring to my feet. But for the comfort they bring to my heart as he softens at the sight of them. For the comfort they bring to my heart as his sharp edges fall away at the sight of me in them.

I'd slipped on his favourite shoes after i'd arrived at the office. Prepared for the day to come. Prepared for our fragile act to play out the same as it always did after he left me standing in the corridor, begging him to stay. What I wasn't prepared for was what actually happened. I wasn't prepared for the call that changed everything. I wasn't prepared for Wallowski's words. Words that knocked all the air from my chest. _He used Emily's picture Gill._ I hadn't heard anything after that. I hadn't needed to. It didn't matter that he'd caught the bastard. It didn't matter that no harm had come to Emily. Not really. Because it wasn't about what hadn't happened. It was about what could have happened. What could have happened to her. To his daughter. He'd used her as bait. Dangled her in front of a monster like a play thing.

I'd changed into his favourite shoes when i'd arrived at the office. Prepared for the day to come. Prepared for our fragile act to play out the way it always did after he'd left me in the corridor, begging him to stay. But I wasn't prepared in the slightest. Not even close. And that's how I ended up here. Slumped against my car, my feet torn to shreds by his favourite shoes. His favourite shoes that were supposed to gracefully carry towards me. His favourite shoes that were supposed to put us back together again like so many times before, but that have instead taken me further away from him than I ever thought possible. As I reach down and slowly pull my feet free, my words echo round my head. _I should have discredited you and your stupid science when I had the chance_. I close my eyes and try to shake away the memory of his face as my words had penetrated his skin. I try to block the guilt that is slowly creeping in at the memory of the pain he hadn't had time to hide. He deserved it, I whisper to myself as I open my eyes and look back up at the building I have just fled. I have two options here. Either I stay. Or I leave.

I look down at my feet, now free from their prison and bare against the gravel of the car park. They're starting to swell. The beginnings of purple bruises mix with the blood and blisters to colour my pale skin. I make a note to myself that next time I decide to run away, I need to be wearing different shoes. I rub my fingers against my temple, a headache forming as my mind works overdrive. Next time I run away. My mind flashes to the pictures of the bruise bodies of the dead girl that started all this off. Her hand and feet mangled beyond recognition from her attempt to escape her captor. That could have been Emily. He could have let that be Emily. The weight of what he did crushes me again, and I know what I have to do.

* * *

I catch a glimpse of her car as she races out of the car park. I hold my breathe, hoping with everything that I have that she'll see me and stop. I wait for the break lights that never come, as she turns onto the main street and out of sight without a moments hesitation. Once the dust settles, I see them. To anyone else, they would mean nothing. Just another abandoned possession, no longer needed or wanted by their owner. But to me, they mean so much more. I bend down and pick them up. I run my hands over the cold black leather and the shiney red soles. My favourite shoes. I've loved these shoes from the second they made there first appearance. She thinks it's because of they way make her look. Thinks it's because of they way they make her legs go on for miles. But it's not. Sure they've always made her look great. But that's not it. Not really. I've always loved these shoes for the way they make her feel. The way they make her stand just that little bit taller. They way they make her own the room. The way they make her take back control. I love them because when she wears them, she forgives me.

I run my hands over the cold black leather and the shiney red soles. My favourite shoes. I love these shoes because when she wears them, she comes back to me. But she's not wearing them anymore. And deep down inside, in a darkness I didn't even know I had within me, I know she's never going to be wearing them again.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. For those of you who have read some of my other stories that remain unfinished, I haven't forgotten about the endings i promised many months ago. Life just gets you sometimes, and i've barely had time to think about writing, let alone get the thoughts out on paper. But i'm here and I will finish what I started xx


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